My Only
by YellowRose12
Summary: She could tell it pained him to see her like this – to want, but not to have – to see, but not to touch. If only he knew, she was all his. CB, of course. ONE-SHOT! R&R PLEASE


**A/N: My inspiration for this one comes from a beautiful song by Rosi Golan called "Come Around." Listen to it; it's bliss for your ears. Also, if you're interested, the opera song of choice is "Turandot: Nessun dorma!"**

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_**My Only**_

Blair sat on a loveseat in her living room, absentmindedly tapping her Louboutin's against the marble. Ever since she began dating Nate, she had begun the horrible habit of picking at her nails, which she was currently preoccupied doing.

Nate was leaned back against the opposite couch, his arm laid across the back, babbling about something unimportant. She frankly didn't care. He had also picked up a nasty habit of talking_ at _her rather than _with_ her. It had become quite dreadful lately. Blair vaguely heard mentions of Tripp and apparently Dan and Serena hooked up again. Nothing particularly caught her interest until…

"I saw Chuck at the Palace today," his tone was bored as usual. Did he ever have any inflection or was he permanently monotone?

Her head shot up at the mention of his name. _Chuck._ She hadn't seen him since graduation. It was November now, just a few days from her birthday. It was right then that the realization of the date hit her.

It had been two years. Two years to the day that she had lost her beloved virginity to the notorious Chuck Bass in the back of his limousine.

Nate voice suddenly got a little hazy. The light from the window got a little brighter, causing her to squint. There was an unmistakable knot in the throat.

What was she doing here, listening to this fool prattle on and on about nothing but himself when her birthday was a mere couple days away? Did he even remember? He hadn't even bothered to ask her if she wanted something special? Chuck didn't need to ask. He just knew. He always knew. She felt her hand idly move towards her collarbone, wishing his necklace to grace her presence.

Memories began to flood her mind.

That night. Her dancing. His eyes locked on hers. He was completely mesmerized and she had never felt more alive. She remembered distinctly the feel of his lips against hers. They were fuller than she had expected, soft and yearning. He held her close with strong hands. He was the last thing she saw coming, but he was the best thing that ever happened to her.

Her thoughts were beginning to overwhelm her. Her life was one big lie. She didn't care about Nate, at least not in the way that he wanted or deserved. Nate was a good guy, but not the one for her.

"Chuck? Wh-- What was he doing?" She hoped her extreme curiosity was kept hidden by her cover of nonchalance. Mimicking her boyfriend, she kept her tone uninterested, but her eyes, focused and stern, clearly gave her away to anyone who wasn't Nathanial Archibald. He had the convenient talent of being completely oblivious to anything not shoved in his face.

"Who knows? He was drinking as usual," his face was turned towards the window.

Right then, she knew what she had to do, what she was meant to do from the beginning. She stood up quickly brushing down her dress and grabbing her purse. She stood perfectly still, hands clasped neatly in front of her, lips held tight and eyebrows raised.

"I have to go. Oh, and Nathaniel darling, we're done," an innocent smile graced her face. She didn't mean to be cruel, really, she didn't.

"Wait, what?" He had leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. A crease had formed between his brows, his mouth slightly agape.

She walked swiftly towards the elevator, never looking back.

Inside the elevator, all confidence had gone down the drain. She was on her way to find Chuck, to get him back, to claim him once and for all. He was hers and she was his, but would he still want her? She had been dating Nate for nearly eight months now. Could he have moved on? He always did have a thing for the twins in room service. She pushed aside these thoughts. If there was even the slightest chance that he still held feelings for her then it was worth a shot. Blair Waldorf was never one to back down from a challenge, especially when it came to Chuck Bass, who was always a challenge.

Exiting, she headed for the street to hail a cab. She felt like she was in a trance, almost on autopilot. Finding her way to Chuck was reflexive in a way. Before she even remembered getting into the cab, she had arrived at the Palace Hotel.

The steady rhythm of heels on marble guided her towards the Van der Bass door. She didn't know what she would say. There was no immaculate, well thought out plan or ploys of deception. Her she was, Blair Waldorf, standing in front of an ever looming gate which seemed, strangely, to be getting larger and larger, shrinking her size as well as her cool. A trick of the mind, no doubt, but she was still scared shitless.

Her chin trembled slightly; she licked her lips, straightened her back and shoulders, and raised her hand to knock on the door.

She waited patiently, her eyes frantic. For a moment, she thought she could hear his breath behind the door, slow and steady, he would be watching her through the peephole, examining her, judging her every movement.

She knocked again, louder this time.

"Chuck? It's me, Blair. If you're there, please answer. I need to talk to you."

Blair shut her eyes tightly. This was it. He wasn't going to answer and she couldn't blame him. She held back tears, let out an exasperated sigh and turned to leave when she heard the distinct sound of a lock being turned.

She stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned around. He was standing with the door only half open, one hand on the doorframe, the other still gripping the door. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles under his eyes, a sure sign that he hadn't been sleeping. Wordlessly, he turned around, leaving the door open for her to enter.

She felt her breath going ragged and her throat felt dry. She swallowed hard and took a step into the foyer, closing the door softly behind her. He was already halfway up the stairs; she followed him soundlessly.

She found him sitting on his bed, nursing a glass of scotch. Opera music was resounding throughout the room. It was his reflecting music, he once told her. He had said that there was something very intellectual about it; it allowed him to process his thoughts. She was beginning to think she knew him too well.

Blair set down her purse and slipped off her jacket, placing them in the chair near the door. She walked towards him quietly; he was always easily startled in states like these. Before sitting down beside him, she reached forward, grabbed the drink out of his hand and placed it down on the dresser behind her. It really was a horrid addiction.

They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, her eyes on him, his eyes ahead at nothing in particular when he turned to look down at her hands. He reached towards them, holding them in his; he brought her palm to his cheek, closing his eyes.

"Chuck, I—," she wanted to tell him she had left Nate, but he quickly opened his eyes, bringing his finger to her lips to quiet her.

He moved off the bed and turned towards the closet, her back twisting to watch him. She noticed he was still wearing last nights clothes, wrinkled from a sleepless night. He was rummaging through drawers looking for something, she didn't know what. He stopped moving for a moment, then turned around to face her, his face blank, his eyes sorrowful. Her gaze dropped to his hands, he held something ivory, a silken fabric of some kind.

Her brow furrowed as he moved back to sit beside her. He placed the garment in her hands. Slowly, she unfolded it. It was her slip, the slip she had danced for him in, the one she had given herself to him in. Her hands glided over the lace trim, a smile creeping onto her lips. It brought back wonderful memories.

He brought his hands to cover hers, grabbing a bit of the fabric in their embrace.

"Put it on for me," he whispered, his eyes locked onto their hands.

She turned towards him, her eyes widened. He raised his gaze to hers, willing her to comply.

She stood slowly, keeping her back to him, and reached for the side zipper of her dress. Pulling in down, she turned around to face him. He had an anxious boyish wonder smeared across his face. For once, his omnipresent smirk was absent. She kept her eyes on his, raising her hands to slide the straps off her shoulders. In one rapid movement, the dress pooled at her ankles. She raised one foot and then the other, slipped her shoes off and kicked aside the forgotten dress.

Blair stood in only her bra and panties, her head slightly turned to the side. She had never felt sexier than right now, half naked him front of him. She could tell it pained him to see her like this – to want, but not to have – to see, but not to touch. If only he knew, she was all his.

She looked down to the bed at the slip and then back at him; he followed her gaze. He moved to grab it, standing up, only inches apart from her. She raised her arms over her head, never leaving his stare.

Chuck moved the slip over her arms, dragging his fingers down her arms, her side, hips, and thighs. With each inch, she felt goose bumps trickle down her skin. Nate could never make her feel this way, no matter how hard he tried.

His hands stayed holding the trim of the fabric until she moved to intertwine her right hand with his left and used her other hand to guide his right hand around her waist. He looked down at her, clearly confused at her actions. She rose slightly on her tiptoes, her cheek grazing the stubble of his, and whispered, "Dance with me."

The climax of the opera had hit, its sound filling the entire room. It was breathtaking. His grip on her waist tightened, sliding his hand up higher to mid-back and pulling her closer towards his chest. She moved her left hand to thread his hair, lowering her head to rest on his shoulder.

Blair felt his breath on her neck, hot and sticky, he placed a small kiss on the valley above her shoulder. She felt the wetness of his tears slide down her collarbone to the crevice of her breast.

Her lips moved to kiss his neck softly, lingering against his skin. She could taste the scotch through his pores.

"Chuck," she moved her hands to cup his face, directing his gaze at hers, "I'm yours."

"You're with Nate." He kept his head lowered; his red-rimmed eyes pooled with shame, anger, and an ever-longing plea for love.

Blair let out a soft chuckle; the smallest of smiles graced her lips. "Chuck, look at me."

She raised his face slightly with her cupped hands. His sorrowful gaze met hers in hope.

"We're done. I broke up with him, Chuck." A single tear fell from his eye, down his cheek to the tip of her thumb.

Charles Bartholomew Bass, I love you." She said it slow, each syllable imprinting itself into their minds. "I've _always_ loved you. I _will _always love you. Just say you love me too." Her chin trembled, the inner corners of her eyes spilling tears.

Blair let the tears fall freely; she felt no reason to hide in front of him

Chuck removed his hand from her waist, bringing it to brush away a stray hair on her forehead. His hand lingered slightly, dragging it down the side of her face to her cheek. She closed her eyes, leaning against his touch as he traced the outline of her lips.

His brow furrowed; sometimes it was hard to comprehend just how beautiful she was. She was a revelation, a goddess.

He stopped his movements on the corner of her lips, the pad of his thumb stationary against the fullness of her bottom lip.

"Open your eyes, Blair." Her breath quickened; what if he didn't say it back? No, no. She couldn't open her eyes. It's all too real if she opens her eyes.

_Just keep them closed and this is all just a wonderful dream. He says it back and you live happily ever after. No, Blair, just keep them closed._

Her lids tightened, the tiniest of crow's feet peeping out from the corners.

"I can't, Chuck. Not if you're just going to let me down again. It's been two years. I need you to say it." Her voice quivered with uncertainty.

Chuck glided his hands over the bridge of her nose. "Blair, open your eyes." Each word was deliberate, slow, and steady. He said it with a bit more force this time.

She took a deep breath, opening her eyes to reveal Chuck staring at her intently. He had moved to hold her hands within his.

The slightest of smiles was on his face. "Blair Cornelia Waldorf, I love you."

Blair's face scrunched up with tears and crashed her lips onto his. Her hands clawed through his hair, bringing his head closer to hers. He clutched her back, digging his nails into her skin and sliding the silk up her spine. It was animalistic in a way … fierce, primal love. Their attraction was innate. They were in every sense, made for each other.

He pulled away to nibble her ear. "I'm sorry I waited so long. I love you. Always have, always will" She shuttered.

Chuck grabbed her face once again, bringing her forehead to his lips.

A whisper across salted skin, "_You are my only_."

_**Fin.**_


End file.
